MTL - Peng Lie on the Great Way - Chapter 314

After the death of Fu Sinian, Yu Duo’s heart shattered into pieces. As his widow, she was the recipient of Fu Sinian’s massive amount of inheritance. She spent her days drowning herself with alcohol and was depressed all the time. She mourned her late husband with the companionship of her designer purses, designer jewelries, and money that could last her several lifetimes.

But only Fu Sinian knew the truth — that after his death, this woman hosted parties, lived in their mansion, drove expensive sport cars, traveled the world, and flirted with men. She was having the time of her life.

Fu Sinian wasn’t so angry that his soul dissipated; quite the contrary, he was so angry that he had come back to life!

Fu Sinian, who had come back to life, looked at the mourning Yu Duo and smiled devilishly.

“We are on! Watch me make you fall in love with me for real this time!”

My name is Lü Jincheng, there are quite a few who have seen my works, and they call me Boss Lü.Before he had time to properly say goodbye, the top player Boss Lü is reborn in 2014, back to his youth.Suddenly equipped with a masterful skill in wooing women, his career becomes effortlessly successful.In a hedonistic life, there remains only the desire to do as one pleases.This book is also known as 'How to Break Free from the Shackles of Intimate Relationships' and 'Boss Lü’s Life is Destined to be Without Regrets' among others.

The character he raised was a completely useless one which couldn’t even be used to see the ending, in other words, a total failure.

Not impossible, but refused…? It was absurd for a moment.

He woke up in a strange swamp in the middle of nowhere. As the very loser he had raised. “…In the first place, I wasn’t downloading anything illegal.”

A dark era running towards destruction. A survival story of a complete loser in order to return safely.

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“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.